Truly
by as-oursilversea-rises
Summary: She thought her life was just about perfect but how long can perfect truly last? It started with a draft letter addressed to her brother and things went straight downhill from there. Things can't seem to get much worse when she's forced to move into the house that's haunted her since she was eight years old but that's only the beginning when she meets the boy they call trouble.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own _The Outsiders_.

* * *

The only sounds were the rain pounding hard against the window beside my bed and the ear splitting yells coming from my parent's parlor. I lay in bed, hidden under the covers with a pillow pressed against my head. My tears soaked through the pillowcase. It was hot underneath all the blankets and comforters but I didn't dare even poke my head out from underneath, in fear they might come in. When the door creaked open, I almost screamed, even though I could still hear their yells were distant. My breathing was heavy as I clapped a hand over my mouth and slowly sat up, peeking over the pillow I'd held to my face. In the doorway stood my brothers, James and Danny.

I sat up a little more as they stepped in. I was so happy to see them I could've smiled if the screaming hadn't gotten louder due to the open door. They rushed in, dressed in pajama pants and old t-shirts. Quietly shutting the door behind him, Danny jumped onto my bed right after James. They looked at me real hard, sitting on the other side of the bed silently. I stared right on back, unsure if I should say anything or not. I guess we sat there for a while, me with my legs underneath the covers and a pillow on my lap, my brothers cross-legged and worried. Eventually, Danny leaned over and rubbed his thumb across both my cheeks, wiping away the streams of tears.

"It's quarter past two o'clock in the morning. They keepin' you up, too?" James asked, his amber eyes staring into my darker colored brown. I nodded and bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"Don't worry," Danny smiled, and in that moment I envied my fourteen-year-old brother for his ability to look so happy. Even his eyes lied about how he was really feeling. Out of the three of us, Danny was the best at hiding his feelings and I was the worst. "They're arguing over something stupid. It'll be over soon."

I nodded again, in agreement but I knew that's not what he really thought.

They both crawled over to where I sat on the bed and tucked themselves under the comforter on either side of me. "Don't worry, baby. Things'll be alright," Danny whispered and kissed my cheek before draping an arm over James and me and for the first time that night I felt safe. Safe from the ones who were supposed to be protecting me. My tired, red eyes shut tightly and tears slowly stopped streaming. I fell asleep into a helpless oblivion that I only wish could've lasted forever.

I was awoken two hours later by what sounded like the firecrackers Danny, James, and their friends used to set off in the back yard. I sat up quickly after hearing another come right after the first and then silence. There were no yells, no cries, and no more firecracker sounds. Just the sound of my breathing heavy. I looked over to Danny to see he was awake but not stirring. He stared up at the ceiling, gaping, and I had the feeling he hadn't gone to sleep when I had. James, on the other hand, had shot up in bed just when I had.

"Danny?" my voice was shaking. "W-what was that?"

He didn't say anything, just looked at me with wide eyes like he'd seen a ghost and I felt like crying again when I heard sirens and saw red and blue lights flashing outside my window. James hopped out of bed and ran to the window, peering out at the sirens. I sat up on my knees, facing Danny who still lay flat on his back.

"Danny, please. What's going on?" I asked and when he didn't answer me I put my hands on his arm and started shaking him, begging for his attention. "Please talk to me, Danny! What was that?"

He sat up slowly and rubbed my shoulder, trying to calm me down. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered, and I almost believed him. "James, come over here. We're gonna wait here until somebody comes up, alright?" I nodded and James obeyed our older brother's command. I leaned into Danny, letting his arm fall over my shoulder as I heard front door open and the sound of strangers' voices. A few minutes later a man in uniform opened my bedroom door and flicked the lights on, looking at us with sympathy.

"Are you the Clarke children?" the man asked in a deep voice.

"That's us," Danny said.

"You just hang tight here for a moment. Everything's going to be okay," he said and walked away, leaving the door open and the bright lights on.

But it wasn't okay. I didn't understand much of what was going on but I knew enough to make me utterly miserable. My parents had shot each other in a drunken fight and since we had no living relatives around we would move to our grandmother's house in Rogers, Arkansas. I couldn't think for the next couple of days. My head was cloudy and I felt like I was in some twisted nightmare I had no control over. If it hadn't been for Danny and James, always holding my hands when they knew I needed a little help standing up, I would've never gotten through it stably.

They moved us to Rogers as quick as possible, forcing us to pack our bags when we should've been mourning the loss of our dead parents who'd murdered each other. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

The ride to Rogers consisted of a shiny black car and a tense, high-strung lady names Mrs. Johnston. She had piercing pale blue eyes and black hair pulled into such a tight bun I was surprised her skin wasn't stretched out. She was stiff and silent and didn't say more than a few words to us. But I think I liked it better that way. I wasn't in a talkative mood but who could blame me?

Grandma took us in with welcoming arms. I'd always loved my grandmother. She was my mother's mom and we'd visit her often but moving into her house seemed strange. She was upset at the death of her only daughter but put on a smile for us and I wondered if Danny got his superpower to hide emotion form her.

Out of the three of us, I think I acted the most miserably. James and Danny tried not to be so despondent for my sake and I hate myself for not doing the same for them. I was eight years old, James was twelve, and Danny was fourteen. Neither of us had ever dealt with so much loss. Danny and James knew there was something wrong with our family. They knew parents weren't supposed to yell and scream at each other late into the night. They knew parents weren't supposed to hit each other or their children. They knew from the way Mom and Dad had looked at each other that love no longer existed between them but I was clueless. Fighting parents was all I ever knew. I didn't know there was such thing as parents who were kind to each other and told their children how much they loved them each night. But I had Danny and James and that was as much as I ever needed.

Nana had two extra bedrooms. She put me in one and my brothers shared the other, just like at home. The home that was being auctioned off by the state. Nana tried to cheer me up, telling me she'd buy a new bed set and we'd paint the walls any color I wanted, buying curtains and sheets to match. I told her I wanted to keep my old bed but she insisted on at least painting over the faded yellow walls. I chose purple and without my request, Nana purchased pretty white sheets covered in violets. She painted the walls a lilac color that made me smile. I never needed Nana to spend money on me to make me smile. I just needed to know that she'd go through the trouble of painting my entire room on her own and setting up all the furniture not just to make me feel better, but to make me feel welcome and comfortable. And my grandmother became my best friend in the entire world. Together we'd plant flowers—lilacs of course—in the garden, brew tea and drink it with honey, and take walks around the block, talking with all the neighbors. She even taught me how to sew with her sewing machine and she helped me make dresses for a doll she'd bought me years before.

Two weeks after we'd moved to Arkansas, I wasn't wretchedly depressed anymore. I still thought about Mom and Dad and missed them an awful lot but I hated them for doing what they did to each other. I hated them for putting Danny, James, and me through everything they did. But I still loved them with everything left in me and I still prayed every night that this was all one big nightmare that I'd wake up from in the morning. I prayed like that for a long time. I loved my new life in Arkansas and my brothers did, too, but when you live with a person for so long and you grow up thinking they care about you, you become attached and once you're attached to a person, its hard to let go.

Eventually, we started school back up again. I made friends quickly, forgetting the girls I'd sat with at lunch back home. I made a few good friends but nobody special. Most days after school I spent with my brothers and their friends, trying my best to blend in and make them accept me.

The actual schoolwork wasn't hard for me and when it was I had my brothers for help. The teachers were nice and second grade was going great. I learned quickly which parts of the neighborhood were safe to go to and which parts would be smart to stay away from. Soon enough, I forgot all about the street I'd once lived on and the school I used to go to. I forgot about the neighbors who called the cops when my parents got too loud, the ones who first heard those firecracker-sounding gunshots. I forgot all about my old bedroom that had been a pale pink color and all about the kids who lived across the street from me. The kids I'd play with on Saturday nights. I forgot about the sad little town I came from and soon it was all just a part of my tragic old past. Before I knew it, I forgot what my father's birthday and what shade of brown my mother's eyes had been. I knew that if I stayed there I'd always be "The girl whose parents shot each other" but here I was just your average girl next door.

I had my ninth birthday party in my grandmother's house, as well as my tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth. I spent I spent 8 great years in that pretty old house until tragedy struck once again for the first time in years.

Nana never told us anything was wrong with her. While we thought she'd been volunteering extra hours at the soup kitchen, she'd been visiting the hospital once a week. We'd noticed she'd been feverish a lot lately so we sent her to the doctor's office. She came back and said, "I'm just getting old, that's all. I can't stay young and beautiful forever. Doc says I'll be all right. These old bones can take anything." We all smiled and shrugged her sudden frailty off as side effects from the pills the doctor gave her. I hadn't bothered to question her need to take medication. I thought it was simple painkiller. We didn't question how she constantly went from freezing cold to boiling hot while sitting in a perfect temperature room. We should've known something was wrong.

Around December after my sixteenth birthday, Danny got drafted to Vietnam. He hadn't told anybody but Nana about him going away. I cried when he told me he was leaving and I clung onto him like I was eight years old again. Danny was twenty-two years old and had finished high school, earning a scholarship for playing football. He went to school nearby so he could still live at home with us. He'd done three years of school without my grandmother having to pay a dime before he realized he didn't like what he was learning. I thought he'd find something else that interested him and go back to school. He spent a few months at home while I went through high school and James went to his own college, paying for everything on his own. James had always been independent.

It was the first week of December when he told me. There was four inches of snow on the ground and the windows had to be kept sealed shut to keep the wind out. I was in my room, still painted lilac purple, when he came in and sat on the bed in front of me. He was smiling this sad smile that I don't think I'll ever really understand.

"You busy?" he asked me.

I put a slip of scrap paper in the book I'd been reading to save my place and set it down on the nightstand beside my bed before looking up at him and shaking my head no.

"Good," was all he said before handing me a folded up piece of paper.

I looked at him funny before opening the letter and carefully reading each word. I had to read it three times to make sure I wasn't just seeing things and by the time I was through I had a hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. My eyes welled with tears as I leaned over to him, wrapping my arms around him, still clutching that letter in my hand. He laughed a little as he hugged me. When I leaned back he rubbed his thumb across both my cheeks, wiping away the streams of tears, just like he'd done when I was a scared little eight-year-old girl. That's how I felt then. Like a scared little girl.

"When?" I whispered.

He smiled that sad smile again and said, "Tomorrow."

I almost choked on tears as I started bawling. I threw my arms around him, swearing to myself that I'd never let go but after I'd soaked his shirt through with my endless tears, he unwrapped himself and stood up, holding my hand.

"I don't want you to go," I said under my breath, looking at him and silently begging him to stay.

"I gotta. It's what I was meant to do. I know it."

"Danny, you're only saying that because if you don't go they'll throw you in jail! But what if you it's terrible out there?" I yelled. I stood up in front of him, trying to make myself mad at him. "What if you decide you hate it and you're stuck there? War ain't like college, Danny! You can't just decide you don't want to do it anymore! What if something happened to you? What are we supposed to do then?"

He smirked, knowing I wasn't really mad and I wanted to hate him for it but I couldn't.

"I'll never know if I don't try. I still get to write you and you can still write me—"

"But, Danny! Writing isn't the same as seeing!" I screamed before throwing myself back down on my bed.

He knelt down on the floor in front of me and held my hand. "I know that. I wish I could always be with you and James and Nana, but I gotta do this. I gotta do something with my life. There's nothing but now."

I wanted to yell at him some more but I knew I wouldn't effect his decision. I was glad James and Nana weren't home to hear me. "Who else knows?" I whispered.

"Everyone, now."

He knew I'd be the hardest to tell. Nana's good at hiding her emotions and saving them for later. Even James had learned how to save his feelings for later by now. I was an entire different story. My emotions were too big for me to keep them bottled up inside of me. I let my thoughts cloud up my head too quickly. Whatever made my grandmother and brothers so emotionally strong skipped right over me.

I bit my lip and nodded. He stood up and pulled me to my feet. He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead and told me I should get some rest. I lied down on my bed as he left the room and shut the door behind him thinking I'd only shut my tired eyes for a few minutes.

I woke up the next day and Danny was gone.

For the next week, I cried myself to sleep every night, stuffing my face in a pillow to muffle my cries. Nana and James knew I was going crazy. I felt crazy. They tried to talk to me but that didn't help. I just needed time to realize Danny was gone. I told myself all the time that I'd see him soon and I wrote letters whenever I could, saving his in a box underneath my bed. Over the next couple of weeks, I gradually adjusted, writing letters when I felt my worst.

February rolled around and everything was alright for a little while. My grades had started slipping after Danny left but I'd managed to get them back up to where they should be. I wrote Danny as often as I could. Everything almost seemed normal again. That is, until my grandmother announced we were moving back to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

* * *

**A/N: **So this is the first chapter! It took a long time to write but I'm pretty proud of it. I know none of the greasers are in it but they'll definitely be in the next one. That's a promise! Okay, let me know what you thought. I love constructive criticism. I'm pretty tough, don't be afraid you'll hurt my feelings because I promise you won't. Also, I know it's very fast and a lot seems to happen at once. Let me know if that was a problem. Alright, that's all, thanks!


End file.
